


And With Mine Eyes I'll Drink The Words You Send

by colonel_bastard



Category: Marvel Avengers Movies RPF, Thor (Movies) RPF
Genre: Dick Pics, Iambic Pentameter, M/M, Masturbation, References to Shakespeare, Sexting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-01-27
Updated: 2014-01-27
Packaged: 2018-01-10 06:52:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,875
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1156466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/colonel_bastard/pseuds/colonel_bastard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Thy beauty is beyond all earth’s compare;</i>
  <br/><i>Pray tell me, lover mine, what dost thou wear?</i>
</p>
<p>Chris gets a late-night text.  Tom is feeling restless.  And, apparently, very poetic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And With Mine Eyes I'll Drink The Words You Send

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired entirely by [this glorious Tumblr post.](http://admeliora13.tumblr.com/post/74037556525/sounds-about-right) I'm a huge Shakespeare nerd and used to do a lot of writing in iambic pentameter just for kicks, so the idea of sexting in verse was too delicious a challenge to resist. Plus I love this pairing and haven't written anything for them in _forever._
> 
> This one's for my buddy [Juno](http://junosunderland.tumblr.com/), who needed a little cheering up. 
> 
> Title is taken from _Cymbeline._

_Italics indicate a text from Tom._

**Bold indicates a text from Chris.**

 

 

 

It’s not even dinner time in Malibu, but over in London it’s already past the middle of the night and heading into the wee hours of the morning. That’s why Chris is so surprised when he checks his buzzing phone and sees Tom’s name on the screen. It’s a text message, divided into two lines. 

_Thy beauty is beyond all earth’s compare;  
Pray tell me, lover mine, what dost thou wear?_

Grinning, Chris taps out a quick response. 

**it’s 2am there - shouldn’t u be asleep?**

He doesn’t expect the conversation to last. Tom’s got _Coriolanus_ going on; he probably just finished a show and wants to say good night. Chris is glad to hear from him. He misses him when they’re parted like this, and they’re parted far too often. A text like this out of the blue means that Tom is probably thinking about him as often as Chris is thinking about Tom. It’s a nice reassurance.

The phone buzzes again.

_Fie, sleep! It will not bring me any bliss  
When I must spend the night alone like this._

The next text arrives before Chris even has a chance to answer.

_Alone, I strip the raiment from my frame  
And thus laid bare think only of your name._

Chris would never call himself an expert on Shakespearean verse, but he’s pretty sure that translates to “ _I’m naked and thinking about you._ ” He’s got the phone in both hands now, clutching it like the safety bar on a rollercoaster ride.

**show me**

He doesn’t stop watching the screen until it lights up again, at which point he almost drops it as he hurries to open the thumbnail to full-size. There’s Tom, naked and sprawled out on his bed, the phone no doubt balanced precariously in his fingertips with his arm stretched out as far as it can go— the better to capture as much of his long, lean body as possible. His hair is wet, his skin glistening. He must have just stepped out of his post-performance shower. 

The picture is accompanied by another text. 

_Your name is writ on each and ev’ry part—  
My blood, the ink; the pen, my beating heart._

“Holy shit,” Chris mumbles. His own text looks feeble and stupid in response.

**gorgeous**

But really, that pretty much sums it up. He’s still staring at the picture, at Tom’s soulful bedroom eyes staring back at him, when another text appears at the top of the screen. 

_I beg thee, grant an image in return:  
Between thy legs is that for which I yearn._

Chris laughs out loud, one hand instinctively going up to cover his mouth even though there’s no one around to hear him. He’s giggling even as he types his answer. 

**mate did u really just ask for a dick pic in verse**

Another picture pops up only a moment later— a close-up of Tom’s pouting face, his lower lip jutting out and his brow furrowed. 

_You wicked man; you are a heartless thief  
To steal from me the chance for some relief!_

Even though he’s alone in his apartment, Chris still feels compelled to check for witnesses before popping the button on his jeans and sliding the zipper open. He pushes down the waistband of his boxers and pulls out his dick, already half-hard from that first picture of Tom stretched out on the bed. It doesn’t take long before he’s fully erect. For the finishing touch, he pushes up his t-shirt so his abs can be in the shot. Satisfied with his presentation, he snaps a few pictures, picks the one he likes best, and sends it along. 

It’s funny, but now he can’t even remember what he originally had planned for this evening. There’s nowhere he would rather be than sitting right here in his favorite chair, tapping his phone impatiently on his thigh as he waits for Tom to respond. 

Tom responds with gusto. 

_O ecstasy! O misery divine!_  
 _To see but not to touch what should be mine._  
 _My blood runs hot, my skin begins to ache,_  
 _Consumed by thirst which nothing here can slake._  
 _My lust is like a fever on the rise,_  
 _Its only cure your touch, your mouth, your eyes._

Chris is breathing hard as he struggles to respond. His fingers are being especially clumsy, the tiny touchscreen keyboard doing him no favors. 

**I miss yours too**

**fair trade**

**show me ur cock**

The answer comes too quickly and with no image attached. Chris groans in frustration. 

_To soothe the sting of lacking thy embrace,  
Adonis, I would look upon thy face._

Chris switches the phone to the front camera and holds it out before him. He wore his hair slicked back today but Tom likes it messy, so he tousles it until it’s shaggy and wild. A t-shirt isn’t a terribly sexy thing to be wearing, but he hooks his finger in the collar and tugs it down to display a slice of skin, tilting his head to emphasize the lines in his throat leading down to his exposed collarbone. He doesn’t need to try for any kind of facial expression— he just thinks of Tom and snaps one quick shot, and when he checks the screen he realizes he was smiling without even meaning to. He sends it without hesitation. 

Another verse arrives shortly. 

_Thy countenance has power to inspire—  
Now you shall see the proof of my desire._

Chris’s knees bounce up and down while he waits for the next message. When the notification warns him that there’s a picture attached, he shoves his jeans and boxers halfway down his thighs in expectation. 

Just as he’d hoped, it’s a POV shot down the length of Tom’s naked body, the center of the picture dominated by his erect cock. In the foreground he’s got his free hand resting on his belly. In the background, Chris can see his toes curling in anticipation. 

_My sword is drawn, my armor has been shed.  
Would you were here to conquer me in bed!_

Chris takes a moment to close his eyes and test whether teleportation can be accomplished through sheer willpower. It can’t. But the pause does give him a chance to remember an actual line from _Coriolanus_ — he only knows it because Tom wouldn’t stop saying it to him at every opportunity after he was cast in the show. Chris types it slowly, careful to get the words exactly right. He knows it would ruin Tom’s mood if he messed up a Shakespeare quote. 

**let me twine mine arms about that body**

A split second later his phone buzzes. He laughs at the message. 

_!!!!!!!_

Chris is absurdly proud of himself for getting Tom to break character. He can just picture Tom’s reaction when he read the line, his eyes wide and one hand clapped over his mouth in glee. If Chris had been anywhere close by, Tom would have tracked him down and rewarded him with a shower of giddy kisses, babbling about the perfection of Shakespeare and the beauty in the rhythm of the iambic pentameter. 

God, sometimes Chris misses him so much it hurts. 

He’s gazing fondly at the string of exclamation marks when the next message pops up. 

_This body would so gladly be entwined!_  
 _I curse the distance that is so unkind._  
 _Your absence is the cause for great lament_  
 _For I will know no sleep till I am spent._  
 _This agony is more than I can stand;_  
 _I think of you and take myself in hand._

Chris sucks in a breath through his teeth. If he hadn’t been hard already, that would have done it. He tries to type with one hand but can’t do it. 

**take ur time with it**

**u know I would**

He’s trying not to go too fast himself, already working his cock with one hand, the strokes as slow as he can manage. He scrambles with the phone when another text message appears. 

_By your command, I slow my reckless speed_  
 _And usher forth a groan of wretched need._  
 _My breath like furnace bellows, hot and fast;_  
 _I doubt that I possess the strength to last._

Chris fumbles to open his phone’s camera. It’s still set on front view, and he’s startled to see his own face looking back at him, flushed and dazed and grinning. He switches it back to normal view and points it at his hard-on, still clutched in his other hand. He sends the picture with a short message.

**right there with u baby**

Then he lets his head fall back and his hand speed up as he pictures Tom somewhere far away, an ocean and a continent between them and yet Chris can still hear him _breathing_ , can still smell his clean wet hair, can still taste the sweat beading on his skin. He imagines that he’s lying beside him, close enough to feel the heat of his body, close enough to touch. He hears a distant buzz and reads the text with hazy eyes. 

_I close my eyes and see us joined as one;_  
 _You hold me down until I come undone._  
 _O! Harder, faster, kiss me till I bruise!_  
 _My paramour! My paragon! My muse!_

Chris comes suddenly and unexpectedly, spilling all over his lap, too overwhelmed to hold out any longer. He’s breathing hard and seeing stars when his phone vibrates impatiently. 

_I burn, I writhe, I beg for this to cease—  
One word from you will grant me my release._

Chris wipes his hand on his thigh and gives him three words instead.

**cum for me**

For a long time his phone is silent. He’s grateful for the chance to breathe, to collect himself. When it buzzes again, he feels composed enough to look at the message. 

It’s another picture of Tom, one arm tucked behind his head, his eyes half-lidded and his mouth curled in a lazy, contented smile. 

_My fever fades, my remedy complete;  
And thanks to you, my slumber will be sweet._

Chris actually touches the screen, his fingertips aching to feel the warmth of Tom’s face. He would spend the rest of the evening and all of the night texting him if he could— but it’s way past a certain Shakespearean actor’s bed time, and even though it kills Chris to do so, he knows he has to say goodbye for now. 

**that was incredible**

**now get a good night’s sleep**

**I know u have a show 2morrow**

He holds the phone and waits, knowing that he’ll get one last message before they’re done. Tom doesn’t disappoint. 

_I hope that I might dream of your dear face,_  
 _For nothing else can ever take your place._  
 _Please think of me when next you see the moon._  
 _Good night, my love— we’ll be together soon._

It isn’t until hours later that Chris has the willpower to reread the chat log without going to pieces. He just has to check something. He spends a good ten minutes sitting there, counting out the syllables on his fingers, before he confirms his suspicions. 

Somehow, someway, Tom was sexting him in perfect iambic pentameter. 

That is one classy fucker right there. 

 

 

________end.


End file.
